


Fruits of the Autumn Tree

by geekprincess26



Series: Babes of Winterfell [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Fluff, Kisses, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9689186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekprincess26/pseuds/geekprincess26
Summary: Jon returns to Winterfell after a long absence.  He's more than a little surprised by the way his wife greets him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 11 of Jon x Sansa Fanfiction’s 15 Days of Valentine’s challenge.

Ever since the knock had sounded at her bedroom door, Sansa had been running.

 

She and her chambermaids had awakened to find one of the guards at the door, informing Sansa that one of Jon’s soldiers had just arrived to announce that Jon and just under a dozen of his men, who had all been expected to return to Winterfell within the week from the Red Keep, had ridden ahead of the rest of their party and should be within the gates of the castle in an hour or less.

 

As soon as Sansa’s maids could lace a dress onto her, she had run next door to awaken Jon’s valet and manservants so they could draw a bath and pull out fresh clothing for her husband. Then she had dashed to the apartments of Forrester, Winterfell’s steward, so he could have the men’s rooms readied. She had sprinted down the staircases to the kitchens, trailed the entire way by her alarmed lady’s maid Lya, to have the cooks prepare Jon’s favorite meal. She had run back up some of the stairs to the maester’s quarters so he could be prepared in the event any of Jon’s men needed his attention. Then she had raced back up the rest of the stairs to the apartments just across the hall from her and Jon’s own chambers to alert the nurses caring for Ned, Cat, Robb, and little Lyanna that the lord of Winterfell would be arriving shortly to greet his children. Finally, with Lya huffing and puffing behind her, Sansa had trotted back across the hall to allow Lya and her other maids to re-lace her dress and braid her hair properly, for she would after all be greeting Jon in the presence of his men, not to mention their wives, who no doubt had been awakened immediately after Sansa had.

 

“There you are, my lady.” Lya turned Sansa so the latter could see herself in the looking glass. “With a winter rose the way Lord Targaryen likes.”

 

Though she and Jon had been married ten years now, Sansa found herself blushing at her maid’s words, especially when she saw the blue and white ribbons threaded through her hair. Jon had told her before that she was beautiful no matter what she wore, but his eyes always darkened by a shade when he saw a winter rose tucked behind her ear, especially if she happened to be wearing one of the few blue gowns she wore that clung to her figure just so. Lya had, in fact, dressed her in one of those gowns tonight, which added to Sansa’s blush. Not that her figure was what it had been, but the gown still draped across it in a way she knew her husband would like quite well.

 

She had no time to blush more, though, for just then she heard the faint sound of a horn outside Winterfell’s gates, and off she ran again, and once again, Lya trailed her, admonishing her mistress to be careful. But Jon had been gone five months, and Lya’s idea of “careful” would involve Sansa’s descending the stairs at a snail’s pace, and Sansa would have none of it. She dashed down the stairs and through the hallways until at last she reached Winterfell’s entry hall, where the other ladies, along with Forrester and several other attendants, were waiting. All of them bowed and curtsied to her, and she nodded back, smiling. The guards swung open the doors, and Sansa and the others stepped out into the courtyard, which was littered with torches and braziers reflecting the gray stones and the red leaves swept in by the breezes of the early northern autumn.

 

Sansa, however, lost all interest in the leaves and torches when the great gates swung open to admit a dozen men. Jon was at their head, and even as he dismounted from his horse, his dark eyes scanned the courtyard for the blue ones of his wife. At last his gaze caught Sansa’s, and his face lit up more brightly than any of the torches with one of his rare full smiles, and Sansa grinned in her turn like a silly girl playing at being a princess in her lady mother’s gowns and jewels.

 

She did not know when her feet had begun to move, but all of a sudden she was running, and Jon was walking toward her, and then she was flinging herself into his arms as she had so long ago at Castle Black and whispering his name over and over, and he was holding her as he had done back then. Unlike that day, however, once he set her back down to the stone floor of the courtyard, Jon, one strong arm still splayed across her back, threaded his other hand through his wife’s hair and captured her lips in his. Sansa yielded at once, drinking deeply of the salt and pine and leather and softness of him. Her own lips and tongue sprang to life against his and poured back all of the longing that had overwhelmed her for five moons’ turn, all the love she had not been able to speak of during his absence and now spoke of without words. Then all of the tears she had refused to shed over the past five months shed themselves without her permission and streamed down her face and Jon’s. His arm tightened around her back, and his hand stroked her face lightly, and his kisses became softer and gentler, and eventually he pulled back to pepper her cheeks and forehead with more kisses before settling his forehead against hers.

 

“My love,” he whispered, pressing another gentle kiss to her lips. “My Sansa. My heart. My love.” He punctuated each endearment with another kiss, and Sansa felt her face grow red as well as wet, for the display had shattered their previous custom of warm but proper greetings when he would return from one of his trips to the Keep or to another northern house. Nor was it customary for Jon to be so free with his endearments outside their bedchamber. However, Sansa could not find it within herself to care much. One of her hands had wound its way through Jon’s dark curls, and with it she pressed his head to hers so she could return his kisses.

 

When she drew back, Jon gently rubbed the tears off her cheeks with his thumb. “Are you well, my love?” he whispered, pressing another kiss to her brow.

 

Sansa nodded. “We are,” she whispered back, and shifted her feet so that she could look all the way down to check the lacing of her dress. Jon’s eyes followed hers, and she caught them widening as they took in the gentle swell of her belly. He immediately reached to cover it with his hand and snapped his gaze upward to meet hers.

 

“We?” he whispered, and the hopeful amazement on his face melted the rest of Sansa’s heart. “Sansa – are you – ?”

 

A second round of tears filled Sansa’s eyes, and she nodded, and the smile she gave Jon threatened to touch both of her ears.

 

“With child? Yes, my love,” she whispered back. “Four moons’ turn, and Ned, Cat, Robb, and Lyanna shall have a new sibling for company.” She put a gentle hand to his shoulder as he graced her with one of his brilliant full smiles. “Which reminds me: I told their nurses to expect us. I think they will be very happy to see their papa home again.”

 

Jon nodded. “And he will be happy to see them,” he replied, “especially now that he has seen their mama.”

 

He kissed her deeply again, ignoring the looks being directed their way by the remaining occupants of the courtyard, and took her arm, his hand still resting on her womb, to lead her back into their home.


End file.
